


Florence Frickin' Nightingale

by BloodEnvy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 07:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15262272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodEnvy/pseuds/BloodEnvy
Summary: Bedridden and miserable, you’re stuck on the Milano when it reaches port. Quill, anxious to avoid contracting the same stomach virus, leaves you in Rocket’s slightly less than willing care.





	Florence Frickin' Nightingale

“Why have I gotta be the one to take care of her?” Rocket growled, flinging a socket wrench towards his tool hit a few feet away. It hit the side and bounced to the floor with an echoing clatter, and you grimaced as the sound bounced through your skull. “Look at her, she’s disgusting!”

“Thanks, buddy.” You said weakly, wiping at your sweat-sheened forehead with the back of your sleeve, despite the fact that you were shivering. You’d spent the last three days hugging the toilet, emptying your stomach into the bowl or dry-heaving every fifteen minutes or so. You were pale, shaking, with chapped lips and swaddled in about three different blankets, damp hair sticking to your forehead. A bucket sat in standby next to your seat.

“Look, man, Drax and Gamora have got shit to do at this port, and I can’t stay with her.” Peter said, standing as far away from you as her physically could. He’d practically thrown himself out of his chair the first time you’d thrown up, and he’d spent the last three days avoiding you like the plague. It would have been hilarious – it had been to Rocket and Drax – the big, bad Star Lord falling on his ass, if you hadn’t been too busy tossing your cookies in the kitchen sink. “I’m the only one who can get sick from what she’s got. Do you really want two of us walking around looking like that?”

“Still here, Quill. And my ears work fine,” you grumbled. “You guys are really doing wonders for my self-esteem.”

Between them and Drax’s constant, thoughtless comments about your current appearance, and the frequency at which you threw up, you’d spent the first night sleeping fitfully on the bathroom floor, and last night had been spent curled up in the chair you sat in now rather than in the bunk you shared with Drax and Gamora. She’d surprised you the first night; after it became apparent you weren’t leaving the bathroom, she’d brought you the pillow and a blanket from your bunk. She’d still been reluctant to come near you, but her concern had touched you all the same.

You felt a tug at the hem of your blanket, and you smiled. Ignoring the way your stomach lurched and your head throbbed as you moved, you bent down to scoop Groot into your lap. He had dragged a picture-book bigger than him along with him, and you brought that up too.

Peter spared you an apologetic glance, but backed up slightly when you gagged, hand wavering towards the bucket. “See, Groot’s not grossed out.”

“Groot would sit on the lap of an A’askvariian if it meant gettin’ a story out of it.” Rocket argued, and you threw your pillow at him. It fell short, and he looked from it to you with an unimpressed arch of his furry brow. “What if she gets him sick?”

“He’s a tree, Rocket.” Peter replied drily. “He’ll be fine.”

“I can look after myself, Quill.” You assured him, irritated. Ever since you’d joined the Guardians on the Milano, you’d made it a point to carry your own weight, especially when Rocket had insisted to Quill that they didn’t need any “dead weight takin’ up space”. You’d proved yourself an asset enough times for the team to accept you, and your independent streak, quick wit and the way Groot had taken to you so quickly had actually made you one of Rocket’s favorite members of the crew. Not that he’d ever say it out loud.

 “You can barely move.”

“So?” You shrugged. “Hand me a blaster and I’ll shoot anyone who comes in. They gotta get past me to steal the ship anyway.”

Rocket snickered. “You ain’t exactly formidable lookin’ in that get-up, doll.”

You frowned down at your old shorts and oversized tee-shirt. Between them, your blanket-cocoon and greasy hair, he probably had a point. “Then hand me a bomb.”

Now, he laughed.

“See, you guys are getting along great. You’ll be fine!” Peter said, gesturing between the two of you.

“I told you, I can look after myself.” You repeated. “It’s just a stomach bug. Although if someone cou-could exp—” your stomach heaved, and you grabbed for the bucket, almost knocking Groot off your lap as you clutched it to your chest. After a few minutes, you’d brought up nothing but bile, and you set it aside, wiping your mouth. Both Quill and Rocket looked repulsed. “…could explain how I ended up with a Terran virus in outer-frickin’-space, that would be great.”

“I am Groot.” Came the affronted response, and you grimaced, patting him gently on the head.

“Sorry, sprout.”

Peter pointed at you. “See? Terran! I’m the most at risk of getting sick! And I’m the only one who knows what to get her to help her get better. So, I gotta go.” He started backing towards the cargo bay. “And you gotta stay. Sorry, man.”

“Quill—!” Rocket shouted.

“I’ll be back later, bye!” He called out behind him.

“Asshole,” Rocket muttered, shaking his head. He tossed another tool towards the box, and you winced as it hit the floor. His ear flicked at your sharp intake of breath, and he turned his eyes to you with a sigh. “You alright, humie?”

You shrugged but otherwise ignored him. Rocket thinking you couldn’t take care of yourself was the last thing you needed. Instead, you lifted Groot carefully from your lap and set him on the table in front of you. “I’ll read to you later, okay, buddy?”

“I am Groot?”

“Promise.” You held out your pinkie finger, and he wrapped his whole tiny fist around it. You shook it up and down gently, and he grinned.

“I am Groot!” He jumped from the table to the chair, and then down to the floor, running to join Rocket on the other side of the room. You watched him go with the beginnings of an affectionate smile on your lips. Even when you’re feeling like shit, there was nothing that little plant could do that wouldn’t make you smile.

“Yeah, I heard what she said,” Rocket snapped back at him, but there was no venom in his tone. “I’m standing right here; I ain’t deaf.”

You snickered, and Rocket cast you another glance. “Just get Rocket to bring the book in later, okay, sprout?”

“I am Groot!”

Rocket grunted in response, turning his back to you and rifling through a box of spare parts as you headed to your bunk, blankets around your shoulders and bucket in hand.

***

Any hope for sleep was lost when your stomach refused to settle, so you just squeezed your eyes shut and curled yourself into the fetal position. You were lying there for maybe an hour or so before you hear the door of your bunk slide open and the scurry of tiny wooden footsteps across the floor.

“See, she’s sleepin’.” Rocket said quietly. “I told you, she’s gonna be fine, can we go?”

“Rocket?” you asked quietly, voice drowsy. You opened your eyes blearily, and the room shifts, your stomach rolling with it. You swallowed thickly. “What are you doing in here?”

A tug at the blankets announces Groot’s appearance on your bed, his tiny frame barely making a dent in the mattress as he clambers over your hip to stand by your face. He pats your cheek to ensure he has your attention, and you blow a puff of air at him, making him laugh.

“I am Groot.”

“She’s tryin’ to sleep, Groot. You woke her up.”

“No, no it’s fine.” You replied. “I heard sleep-deprivation is actually great for your mental health.”

You struggled to sit up, and frowned when Rocket hit the lights, and he quickly returned the room to relative darkness. Enough light came from the corridor for you to see the two of them, and you knew with Rocket’s superior eyesight, it made no difference.

“Thanks.”

“You slept at all the last few days?”

You shrugged. “A few minutes, here and there. Blood sugar is low, so I don’t really have the energy for anything else.”

“Are you…” Rocket cleared his throat, his voice uncertain. “How you feelin’?”

You looked up in surprise as Groot settled himself between your legs. “Huh?”

“I mean, if you feel like you’re gonna hurl again, I’ll get Groot outta the way.”

You coughed a laugh. “Thanks for the concern. It’s okay. I haven’t eaten in like, two days, so there’s nothing to come up anyhow.”

Rocket frowned. “Right.”

“I am Groot!”

You raised a brow at the tiny plant in your lap. “Really? How’d he know that, Groot?”

“I am Groot.”

“He’s been keeping an eye on me, huh?” You turned your eyes on Rocket, and he rolled his eyes.

“One day you’re gonna tell me why the little snitch always picks your side.” He groused, holding out a bottle of water and a clear sleeve of crackers. “I just figured, it’d help you feel better. Quicker that happens, the quicker I don’t have to play babysitter anymore.”

“How touching.” You said snidely as you held out your hands for them.

Rocket moved to the edge of the bed pushing them almost impatiently into your hands. “It’s not a big deal. It’s the same crap Quill eats whenever he’s hungover.”

You took a tentative sip of water, and when your belly didn’t protest, you gulped down another mouthful. “Oh, it’s a big deal. Rocket, the hardened bounty-hunter bringing me crackers to help settle my stomach? You’re like Florence frickin’ Nightingale, you big softie.”

“Bite me, Y/N.”

You snickered, stopping when he turned away. “Sorry. Seriously, Rocket. Thanks.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t even be in here if Groot didn’t want his damn story.”

“I am Groot.”

“It was not my idea!”

“I am Groot.”

“I did not say I was worried, I—”

“Rocket?”

He looked up at you, ears twitching. “What?”

“Thank you.”

You could see the hint of a smile catch at the side of his mouth for a moment, but he shrugged, huffing a sigh and dropping the picture book in your lap in front of Groot. “’s nothing. You just, uh… you just send Groot out if you need anything else. Or if he’s buggin’ ya.”

“Will do.” A shiver wracked your body, and you pulled the blankets tighter around you, careful not to unseat Groot. You stomach swirled suddenly, and you groaned. You managed to get the bucket under your mouth just as the water came up again. “Damn it.”

“You okay?”

You sighed, lying back down and closing your eyes. “I feel like shit.”

“No offence, humie, but you look like shit.”

“Cheers.”

He chuckled, and with the greatest of hesitations, he stepped forward and touched a tentative paw to your cheek. Your eyes snapped open. Rocket didn’t touch. He didn’t touch anyone, save for Groot. He drew his paw away quickly when he saw your eyes on him. “Sorry, I just… you’re burnin’ up.”

“’s okay. You’re really warm.” You mumbled, turning on your side. Groot scrambled out of the way, coming to sit on your pillow. He, copying Rocket, touched your cheek.

“I am Groot?”

“Because I feel cold, Groot.” You told him, tugging the blankets higher. “That’s what happens when Terrans get sick. They feel hot to touch, but it’s like they’ve been sitting in the snow for an hour. ‘s called a fever.”

“Quill said somethin’ ‘bout that. You’re not supposed to bundle up.”

“This ship is freezing,” you mumble, hands tightening on the blanket’s edge. “I’ll die.”

“You won’t die.” Rocket said with an eye-roll, tugging at the blankets. “God, are all you humies this dramatic?”

“Most of us, yeah. Just be grateful it’s me and not Quill.” You pointed out, pouting as he pulled them out of your grasp and onto the floor. You curled back up into a loose fetal position. “He’d be bitching and moaning so much _none_ of us would have gotten any sleep the last few days.”

Rocket frowned as you began to shiver. “You really are cold, aren’t ya?”

“What was your first hint?” You asked through chattering teeth.

“God, you humies are a frickin’ pain.” He muttered. He sighed, waving a paw at you. “Move over.”

“What?”

“Just do it, will ya? Before I change my mind.”

Confused, you shuffled back awkwardly, careful not to touch the cool metal wall behind you. Rocket waited for you to settle again before removing his toolbelt.

“You breathe a word of this to any of the crew and I’ll shoot you.” He warned, climbing up onto the mattress beside you. He curled up beside you, his body conforming to the curve of yours. His back pressed against your stomach and your thighs, his head settling under the pillow where Groot sat. “That means you too, little man.” He huffed.

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, yeah. You keep your opinions to yourself.”

Already you could feel the heat of his body warming your own, better than the blankets had. You reached out to gently stroke your finger through the fur behind his ears. He tensed for a moment, before you felt him relax under your touch. He sighed lightly, and you continued, slowly.

 “And don’t go gettin’ any ideas either. This is a one-time deal.”

“Rocket, you sweet-talker.”

“Hilarious, you are.”

You closed your eyes. “That’s why you love me.”

The scoff he let out came out more as a puff. “Keep dreamin’, humie.”

“Don’t worry,” you whispered, lulled by his rhythmic breathing against your belly. You felt Groot settle himself by your chest, his hand gripping the collar of your shirt. “It’s our little secret. Promise.”

“Just shut up and sleep, will you?” His voice was quiet, and despite his words, his tone sounded more amused than annoyed.

“’Kay.”

***

You woke up a couple of hours later to the sound of Drax’s booming voice announcing the others’ return to the ship. You jolted slightly, your fingers still buried in the fur of Rocket’s neck. He jerked up immediately, reminding you of a dog that had heard an intruder. Ears upright, his lips pulled back in the smallest of snarls before he remembered where he was. Shaking himself, he pulled away from you, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You could see where his fur was damp from your sweat, and he ran his paws through the fur at the side of his face to straighten it.

He paused when he cast a glance back at you and saw you watching.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he replied, his voice was hoarse, like he’d fallen asleep too, and he cleared his throat. “You feelin’ better?”

You nodded, sitting up. You scooped the still-sleeping Groot up against your chest as you did. His hand was still affixed to your shirt. “A little. I should probably try to eat something.”

He nodded, ears twitching again. He could hear the others. “I should, uh… Quill’s gonna need a hand takin’ off. Can barely handle this thing without me.”

You smirked, rolling your eyes. “Amazing how he managed to keep it one piece all those years before you showed up.”

“Luck.” Rocket shot back as he jumped to the floor, and you laughed. He smiled back at you, scratching at the back of his head. “A real laugh. You must be feelin’ better.”

“Yeah,” you assured him, nodding. “Thank you, Rocket.”

“’s nothin’.”

You shook your head, leaning over to scratch behind his ear again. Gentle, but quick. He leaned his head into your palm slightly as you did. “It’s not nothing. Thank you.”

He nodded awkwardly, still smiling. “You’re welcome, Y/N.”


End file.
